PIRATES
by MrTails
Summary: Kink Meme: The first time Sherlock and John have sex, Sherlock pretends he's a pirate.


"Sherlock? Get off the table."

The mighty pirate hath returned from the voyage of the vast unrelenting sea well rewarded from his pillaging and invading. Many ships and captains had tried their hand, but Captain Holmes has yet to find a man (or woman) that could best him in the game of blood and swords.

"Is that a bloody sword?"

Captain Holmes doesn't know where he's docked, only that he is here to get his fill of rum and calcium lest scurvy get the best of him.

"SHERLOCK!" John yelped, hopping away from the table as the all too real sword was shoved heartlessly through the wooden table top. Poor table didn't have a chance. Sherlock hopped down from their ruined dinning set, ignoring the mess he knocked all over the floor. He grabbed John by the front of his jumper and pulled him in close. John nearly instantly leaned away, unsure of what had caused the sudden madness in his flat mate.

He didn't smell drunk and he certainly didn't look drug included. He simply looked- like a pirate?

Alas! Captain Holmes has foundeth himself a wench. He hath found himself a relief for his sexual frustration among the local whore. He will do finely.

"Oh. Lovely. You're picking me up and apparently can't hear a word I say." John had accepted his fate the moment Sherlock stepped into the room. Whatever he was doing, he wouldn't stop until it was satisfied, unfortunately, that usually meant bad things for someone. In this case, John. His five foot seven inches of army glory was lost when all six foot three inches of Sherlock decided he wanted John elsewhere.

This would be the third time Sherlock had hoisted him off the ground. The first two had ended up with both of them bruised and this time wasn't looking much different.

"You know, you could just ask me to walk to the new location. But I suppose that's just too much trouble for you." He had to admit, he began mildly nervous when he discovered Sherlock was taking him to his room.

"This had better be bloody important." John demanded.

Looks like Captain Sherlock has picked a noisy one. Alas, it won't matter soon. He hath returned to his quarters with his wench.

Sherlock dropped him haphazardly on the bed, causing it to squeak with complain under him. John's heart beat quickened, instantly moving to get off of the bed, but the taller male shoved him back down on his back and throws his knee over the blonde to create a barrier above him. Sherlock leaned over him, skillfully keeping his thin figure up only by the strength of his waist.

Upon closer inspection, it seems Captain Holmes has chosen a man. It's fortunate he's not picky. Somehow he knows he's known all along. Perhaps because of his short blonde hair, perhaps the manly face shape, or the penis. Probably the penis.

"S-Sherlock," John stammered worriedly, though by now he knew Sherlock was completely ignoring him on purpose. In an instant, pale lips are on his pulse, pressing the warm, wet muscle against the throbbing spot. Two thin arms rest on either side of his head, leaving John little room to move about. He swallowed nervously and a smirk crawled over Sherlock's lips.

"What are you doing Sherlock?"

His wench (man-wench?) is excited. He can feel the quickening pulse under his lips. Captain Holmes has always been a joy for the ladies, he is proud to say the same is for men. He watches in exhilaration as the more muscular man under him responds to his every touch. He pulls his dagger from his belt and kindly removes the constricting shirt from off of his wench.

"SHERLOCK! That's my good jumper!" It has barely begun and his wench is already crying his name. With his rough pirate hands, Captain Holmes trails his fingers over the tan line at his throat and down to the much paler skin, savoring every touch. He rolls his thumb over the pink and perk looking bud of flesh, taking thrill in the arch of his wench's back and the cry on his lips.

John had long forgotten about his ruined sweater the moment Sherlock's soft hands found their way over his chest, following along the every curve of his body and teasing his nipples. Then his hand went lower, making a circle around his navel and following the little trail of blonde hair to his pelvis. The comically white hand unceremoniously slipped under his pants, stroking his twitching cock with long fingers.

"Mnm," John bit back a moan.

Captain Holmes decides it was definitely the penis. The mighty pirate strokes the most sensitive bits of his wench with one hand and uses the other to unbutton and unzip the offending material.

"Lift your hips, wench."

Alright. Sherlock was acting stranger than usual and John wasn't sure if he liked to be referred to as 'wench'. He blinked a brown eye open suspiciously, trying to spot something wrong with the other. It was very hard to notice anything with that delicious hand on his crotch. He didn't respond fast enough and Sherlock jerked his hips up and dragged his jeans and pants off with a swift movement that startled John.

"Ah," Sherlock left a trail of kisses along his throat and down his chest, only stopping at his stomach to look back up to John's breathless face. He dipped his tongue into his navel seductively before trailing further down.

Captain Holmes knows that it is best to please your wench lest he wanted to wake up with all of his things gone. He takes no hesitation in running his tongue along the throbbing vein of the underside before taking the leaking dripping head between his lips.

"Ah!" His wench cries out, further edging Captain Holmes on. He dips his head down lower, taking more of the erect tool into his mouth.

"Sherlock!"

"It's Captain Holmes." John stared at his flat mate for several long, excruciating seconds. Sherlock had broken his brain. That was the only reasonable conclusion. Sherlock was broken.

"Oh!" And for now, John was strangely okay with that. He grasped handfuls of the sheets as the warm mouth found its way back to his cock. Sherlock's tongue was much too skillful for his own good, swirling around the top and having the sweetest little ability to find every knee buckling spot. A hand fondled his sac and John threw his head back.

"C-captain!"

Alas, his wench was a quick learner. Captain Holmes decides that is worth a reward. He sits up, not missing the disappointed grunt when he pulls away. He reaches into his pouch and retrieves the fresh water scented lubricate. He applies a liberal amount on his hand, making sure is wench is watching with his dilated chocolate eyes.

Captain Holmes pushes one of his thighs up, exposing the twitching ring of muscles. He invades it, like the many ships he has before, with a single finger. His wench made a noise of disapproval, tensing against the intruding finger instantly. Captain Holmes realizing that his wench has never been with a man before and he must be gentler. Patiently, he waits for the tense entrance to relax and slowly plunges his middle finger in to the knuckle. His wench's whole body trembles.

He thrusts the digit in and out until he finds what he's looking for; his prostate. Captain Holmes abuses it relentlessly with the tip of his longest finger until the wench is squirming and moaning restlessly.

"Captain!" Captain Holmes enjoys the power he holds over his wench and saturates himself in his own title spilling from the blonde's lips. He plunges in another finger, setting to work without delay on stretching and twisting the digits around until he can finally add in the third of his slim, manly pirate fingers.

He works his wench over until he's jerking about on the bed, heaving his hips into Captain Holmes' hand. He withdraws his fingers, momentarily leaving his wench disappointed. Captain Holmes undoes the cloth belt around his waist with quick hand and drips a copious amount of the thick, clear liquid onto his aching cock. His wench is already holding his thigh against his stomach, his breaths coming quickly and shortly.

Captain Holmes grabs him by his waist and aligns his slick phallus with the prepared entrance.

Sherlock moved painfully slow against him and John's fingers dug into the skin on upper thigh until his finger tips turned white. He could feel every inch of Sherlock invading him, the bell shape head and every ridge, and the throbbing need pulsing through him. Then, thankfully, he paused and allowed John to grow accustom to the strange sensation.

"Captain Holmes," John groaned breathlessly. Sherlock steeled his hands on either side of John's head, his long arms giving him more than enough room between them. A little too much room, it seemed, for Sherlock leaned down to bring their faces close and gingerly pressed his pale lips to John's. The kiss was small and sensual, a little unsure and a little questioning. John returned all of his questions, leaning up to meet his flat mate's lips with all his desire and confidence and approval.

He bucked his hips to Sherlock's which was more than enough to give him a jumpstart.

"Urmph!"

The mighty pirate has a mighty heart and though he knows he shouldn't, he has fallen in love with the wench. Captain Holmes had always promised his heart to his work, to the sea, but no more! His heart longs for a companion. He has to pull up his eye patch just to be sure he can properly view all of him.

Captain Holmes is an avid kisser and rarely allows air to come between their lips as he pistols himself into the short wench over and over again. The wench agrees, eagerly (and slightly dangerously) clashing lips and tongue. He moans in the small gaps when his mouth is being possessed, he moans for his captain and to the gods and the heavens, and yes. Lots of yes.

The wench wraps a strong leg around his petite waist, drawing him in closer and deeper with every thrust. His hands grab the muslin of his shirt, holding it in a death grip. Captain Holmes strikes his prostate with every buck of the hips, driving his wench mad with pleasure. He fists the neglected flesh pressed between them, drawing out his strokes with long, slim fingers until the wench finally gives a strangled moan of his released, spilling long strands of the man goo between their bodies.

The tight insides cling and hug his cock with the utter most need until Captain Holmes could stand it no more. He followed the wench's climax soon with his own, grinding his hips against the little blonde man until the pleasure trembled ceased.

John let out a small, shaky breath as Sherlock gently pulled out and rolled over onto the bed beside him. The room filled with the two men catching their breath, more John really.

"Can I ask what that was?" He finally spoke, though certainly not angry or disappointed. It was hard to be after that.

"Yes." Sherlock answered simply.

"And get an answer."

"Of course."

"What was that?"

"Sex, obviously." Sherlock smirked a little, crossing his fingers together on his abdomen. He could feel John frown against the side of his face.

"I thought you were married to your work."

"I thought you were straight." More silence. It wasn't an uncommon thing at 221b.

"Now what?" John wouldn't hold his breath.

"Now," Sherlock began slowly. "I think you owe me dinner."

"Nice try, Captain. You're the one that owes me dinner."

"You can be Captain next time."

"Oh? And what will you be, dare I ask."

"John Watson's boyfriend."


End file.
